


Domov

by Saniika



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Horror, Russian Mythology, Slavic mythology, Witchcraft, cheating (not between Georgi and Mila)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22895575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saniika/pseuds/Saniika
Summary: Georgi, the house spirit domovoi, wishes for a new occupant in the abandoned house at the edge of the woods. His hope is the owner who could become his family. Anya might have been his future wife but the sweet dream turns into a bad heartbreaking nightmare that drives him to sleep deeply, hidden away and forgotten by the world.This was done for TheNotVictuuriExtravaganza - way too late to post, but better than never
Relationships: Mila Babicheva/Georgi Popovich
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: The Not-Victuuri Extravaganza





	1. Remind me to forget

**Author's Note:**

> warnings are posted at the end of the chapter - you can click on the more notes link and then return up with the button TOP.  
> I post these at the end so I don't spoil anything. Please proceed at your own caution.
> 
> No beta this time.
> 
> I was paired with [Waitsama](https://twitter.com/waitsama), who drew a fantastic picture for the fanfic.
> 
> Domov - Slovak for home

_What a mystery this world, one day you love them and the next day you want to kill them a thousand times over._ \- (The Fall - Blue Bandit, 2006)

❖❖❖

It wasn’t meant to be.

She was supposed to be The One, her caress being the softest feather sliding on his skin. They were sunbathing in the bedsheets and rocking their bodies in the morning lethargy. How they sunk deep on the mattress, the covers swallowing them both like dragons swallowed princesses. How he enjoyed it so, so much that he didn’t mind. Those mornings passed faster and faster, far too fast to get used to them.

Georgi by his nature loved his mistress and would polish the whole house with bee wax if he could. He saw only pink. Therefore he didn’t notice that little by little Anya spent time in bed longer than he did, that she didn’t prepare the meals or sweep the floors anymore.

The dedication had a reason and higher purpose. He had it engraved in his heart as true calling, defending it like a true knight.

Georgi chopped the wood for Anya, because he wanted her fingers to retain their softness. He chopped onion, so Anya wouldn’t cry and instead could spend time in the bath, concentrating on her beauty rituals.

There were good intentions, always a little bit of effort left to spend on the loved one. Because Georgi wanted her to thrive and be happy. Happy with the household and happy with him. A domovoi, the house spirit was the happiest when the owner of the house prospered.

Anya was a little moody, she moved in alone and the occasional visitor from nearby housing was for her a welcome distraction. After she arrived, Georgi quickly grew fond of her and wanted to make her feel less lonely. The fresh cup of tea was his bold welcoming gesture. After a few weeks of observing her behavior he conjured it in front of her and let the cloak of invisibility fall of his shoulders. After all, if no step is made, none will ever be the first to begin the journey.

Georgi wondered how she’d take in his presence and looks. Would she scream, would she jump up? Is she into black color? Perhaps he was too pale and might have been taken for a ghost. Well in a certain way he was and-

“Who are you?” Anya clutching the warm ceramic stared at the man in front of her on the other side of the table. She was so shocked, she was just whispering.

Oh, good, so she took the cup instinctively and still continued to sit. He might not have been so much worse then just yet. Appearing to the house owner was always a risky matter. He decided, he’d thread carefully nonetheless.

“The house spirit guarding over you, a domovoi.” He answered reluctantly. Her initial reaction didn’t mean she’d not leap from the door at any other given chance.

The folk was very superstitious and Georgi looked rather gloomy for what he should stand for, a happy welcoming house god. He looked somewhat human with the aid of the shadow or twilight, however his movements were too much reminiscent of a cat or a snake. Somehow he still came off too much like an animal for a human eye. And nothing made humans more wary than something unfamiliar.

Yet somehow she sat there and took a sip of tea, then another one and that was how the awkward moment passed.

Georgi grew quickly hopeful and infatuated with the young woman. His heart swelled with earning and he felt like a cat rolling in catmint.

The final mark, which he didn’t dream of occuring and yet he was hoping for, convinced him that she must have been the one.

One evening, close to midnight, a passerby stumbling from a tavern saw him at midnight in the courtyard and the next morning came to the house back questioning Anya. Since then the gossip spread like wildfire, too many neighbours were eager to know where the tall man in the garden came from. Perhaps Anya found a lover or a fiancee? Maybe she dared to defy the conventions and social propriety? There was no family living with her in the household and the man wasn’t seen before wooing her during the day officially, properly with a guarding company.

Oh, how Georgi was happy when he heard the talk. Oh, how fantastic and wonderful it sounded to his ears. Finally he was seen! A spirit that manifested itself in the courtyard and was seen by ordinary humans was basically like proclaiming: “I am the house master.” It meant that the house had a guardian. A domovoi could take on the form of the houseowner. Which was rather odd, since the impossible happened. There was no other man in the house, so it meant Anya recognized him as her partner. Georgi was Anya’s man!

What a fool he’d been. Blind and deaf.

For what he found as joyful news, was a bitter problem for Anya. How could she explain to the town that the lover was a spirit she is benefiting from? One that fell in love with her and instead of expecting her to keep the house nice and tidy, wanted to form some sort of strange twisted union? Having a spirit at home to guard you was one thing, but copulating with it and having it at your bidding...that was something witches would do. And Anya definitely didn’t want to give the impression of being one.

That was the one little thing she purposely forgot to mention to Georgi. The right moment never came and she didn’t want to come off as unthankful. He tried so hard… He prepared eggs for her, scrubbed the floors, chopped the wood, or dried mushrooms, or, or, or…. There were too many things that needed to be done and his hands were too skillful to spoil the fruits of his labor. Maybe once she saved up enough money from the vegetable and craft sale, maybe after that...

Anya didn’t plan to tell Georgi about her plans to find a husband and build a family of her own.

Except one morning she slipped up by calling Georgi by the wrong name...

Anya was brushing her hair and playing with the pearls and ribbons from the last harvest festival. She heard a noise from the yard and soon the steps were closer, followed by the squeaking door.

“Nikita!” She perked up from the stool at the stove and rushed to the door to welcome the visitor. “How come you’re here so early? I haven’t prepared the pastry you like so much…”

Except it wasn’t Nikita. It was Georgi coming back from his morning stroll. Anya saw the wrong person - Anya’s future and true head of the household. And so Georgi’s dream was over with her frozen smile and eyes seeing what she truly wished to see. Georgi was no longer the house owner, some strange Nikita took his place.

He should have seen it coming. The tiny scratch on their relationship was indeed a deep rift, it opened like a loose thread opened a crop bag, letting the grains fall prey to the dirty unkempt floor one after another.

_Pit, pat._

It was all so clear now.

_Pit, pat._

Anya’s trips to her aunt.

_Pit, pat._

Her requests for things which were hard to obtain.

_Pit, pat._

Those were all means to get out of the house or to get Georgi far away.

Did the secret lover wait for Anya under the next apple tree? And the pastries, filled with homemade jam that Georgi made? No wonder Anya stayed slim when she passed them onto her loved one. She didn’t leave any compliments but the crumbs for Georgi to clean up.

Anya didn’t love Georgi. Not then, not now and not ever. It was all a lie.

In a moment the house spirit stopped breathing. Dust rolled inside the house choking him, the hallways were no longer aired with care, the conjured cobwebs tightened their hold around his neck. His blood grew thin and his vision blurred. The cold washed over him like a sudden autumn storm and his fingers lost their strength. The handle of the basket slipped from his grasp and he saw the pears he brought home as a gift rain onto the floor as if in slow motion. They rolled towards Anya’s boots.

It all happened so suddenly.

“It’s all your fault! You think you know what I want! But you don’t!” Anya stomped the floor boards in anger. “You expect too much in return!”

The blood rushed back to Georgi’s ears and it’s hum deafened him somewhat, as if he heard her from underneath the water. His body grew heavy, swayed and fortunately he could hold onto the table, reaching for it’s edge blindly.

The pears on the dark brown floor were all he could see. Their color was so bright at first and then they spoiled rapidly, mold hiding them under a soft fuzzy gray carpet.

Anya kicked the stool and hissed in disgust. There was no point in keeping the pretenses up. The house spirit was paralized and Anya didn’t see any future profit in the house anymore. That didn’t mean she couldn't drive the dagger deeper into Georgi’s heart.

“Do you even see yourself clearly? Honestly, what did you expect?” She stabbed him with a forefinger on the chest. “As if a human could ever pair up with a spirit. You had no space in my bed nor in my heart. I sufferent you enough with golden patience.”

The wooden beams above their heads cracked, her words carving a mortice on Georgi’s soul. His limbs grew even heavier and he wasn’t sure if the table could hold onto his weight anymore. Something very deep rooted inside him was pulled out through his throat and it hurt more than a cough from tuberculosis.

“But I loved you, I just thought that-” He choked out finally still a bit in disbelief that it was all over. The care, his intentions, those surely couldn’t have been in vain! Love never lied, it conquered deception. It was earnest, it invited warmth and happiness. The way he touched the house for her, cared for it, he indirectly touched her. She must have felt it! She must have enjoyed it, at least a little. She must have… right?

Anya barked out a laugh, sounding completely different than the frivolous chimy giggles she let him enjoy in the past. “So, what? I didn’t. Never will. You think you tried hard? With this wretched house that falls apart? Did you honestly think, I’d stay here away from the city? I’m marrying Nikita. He has a fine house ready for me and our servants will do a far better job than you did. Last people from here are moving out, the houses around are deserted and crumbling. Wake up, Georgi. This house is history, no one will want to live here. You’re on your own.”

His vision was too blurry to see her clearly, he was dependent on the sounds she made. And by God, he didn’t like, didn’t want to hear anymore. The thumps of her boots echoed beside him and then the door banged against the wall as Anya rushed out without further ado.

The sun wandered on the floor in bright squares. They traveled a little journey from the stove to the other side of the room exactly where the kitchen table was. That’s where Georgi and Anya spent the last unkind winter huddled with each other. As the sunbeams traveled through the dwelling Georgi’s mind was like a kaleidoscope, each memory stumbling over the other like miniscule glass shards. Each intertwined and built a chain, slowly winding around Georgi, crushing his ribcage with immense pressure.

It was so, so hard to breathe.

He didn’t notice when the darkness came and the moon slid into the sun’s place. He walked out through the entrance and the iron hinges holding the door bloomed with rust flowers. He walked past the barn and the hay flattened, turned moldy and crumbled. The livestock was gone, Anya probably took it with herself, too stingy to let them go to waste. All the better, at least he didn’t have to kill them. Georgi didn’t like to kill senselessly. He walked back inside the house still lost inside his private dream, until he found himself in front of their bed with bed sheets still undone and soaking in Anya’s fragrance. Lily of the valley hit his nose, reminding him of the little flowers she put into her shirt, so she would smell heady. He used to chase after the smell and eat the bells from her breasts.

“You… traitor. You wicked, evil woman.”

The tears came just as sudden as she left. They ran down his face, blinded Georgi and he wiped them angrily away. The sight of the sheets and the smell filled him with rage.

All hell broke loose.

The tar bubbled in the foundation of the house, seeping through the floorboards. Salt and smoke mixed in a sizzling concoction and his anguish turned into a vicious destruction. Once a caring house god, then turned into a raging evil witch.

His fingers grew claws, ripped the sheets to shreds. The feathers floated in the room like inside a hurricane. Thunder shook the walls and lightning lashed the roof till the shingles were blown away like a destroyed dandelion.

The rejection was nothing. The lie, the ridicule were the worst of all, an unnecessary action with which she trampled on his very being. The betrayal prickled needles in his back, every word of hers reminded him of it. It was over, the world was done for him, nothing else was there left for him.

The moment of clarity stopped him in his tracks, standing in the disaster. The anger fizzled out, suddenly the strength left his body and everything was wet. The rain trickled down upon Georgi through the ripped roof and drummed on his back persistently, pushing him down to the remnants of the mattress on the ground with little effort. The moist, gentle pressure allowed the sadness to seep back in and Georgi finally succumbed. He slid on his knees and spread his palms on the burnt wooden planks. Closing his eyes he connected with the frightened household, convinced it to breathe with him at will and linked their heartbeat. They synced with each other, communicating regret and pleas for relief.

“Was I… ever good enough?”

Perhaps the moon couldn’t watch anymore or maybe the pain was too much, but the darkness darker than any shadow underneath a birch tree swallowed Georgi, then the room and the house. The webs spindled a cocoon around his body, leaving him hidden from the world to see.

Deep sleep enveloped him in its welcoming embrace and let him feel no more, forget all and most of all, Anya. There in nothingness she could no longer hurt him as he ceased to be.

Georgi was very tired and needed rest.

It would take a long time until he would be lured to wake up and perhaps no one would ever accomplish that. Would anyone even remember him at all? Would anyone even want to try that? Perhaps it all would happen by chance. Since luck was a golden fly, sitting on selected ones by chance. And love stumbled on those who didn’t look for it in the first place.


	2. I belong inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new occupant finds their way into the house and Georgi is slowly woken up by their care of the household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings are posted at the end of the chapter - you can click on the more notes link and then return up with the button TOP.  
> I post these at the end so I don't spoil anything. Please proceed at your own caution.
> 
> No beta this time.  
> Leshy - is a tutelary deity of the forests in Slavic mythology  
> Lunnica - amulet worn by women seeking a partnership/love  
> Svadebnyik - worn by newlyweds until their first baby is born, then kept away safe in the house to make peace with it

_Did you study art?_  
No, I studied purgatory. I was there once for eleven years. It's when your soul is caught between the living and the dead.  
\- (The Haunting - Theo and Nell, 1999)

❖❖❖

Mila knew her aunt would be angry. Oh, she would be furious. Her face would not show anything, it would remain a rigid stone. And yet the world would know hell is coming. All the critters would run for their dear life, when Mila’s aunt got angry.

Mila ran as well. But not in fear. She was way past that once Lilia started to teach her their family craft. It was important, essential to their survival and a big honor. Fear was a small sacrifice to make and bury. Her aunt meant well, but was very pesky. Even if her wrath was great, Mila could be scared only until a certain point. The horrible moment of dread passed and never lasted forever. So in short, not long at all. Life went on and the apocalypse never came - despite Lilia trying to convince her niece the next one is surely coming.

Trying your best was challenging. But trying to do that all the time was no fun. Mila simply didn’t have it inside her to follow the great, big and abstract duty blindly and that made Lilia really, really displeased. And god forbid Lilia’s former husband would be proven right! Anything but that! And that’s why Mila was now stumbling in the forest, tired, hungry and cold. 

She didn’t want it. The escapee didn’t want it. But Lilia wanted it and that was what mattered the most. To be precise, she had to - for everybody.

“Dammit. I lost his tracks.” She stumbled over a fallen tree trunk and flopped down into the moss. 

Well at least she didn’t crack her head. That was something. Mila wiped the fringe away from her face, smearing her forehead muddy. “Great. Really splendid. I’m freezing, tired AND dirty.”

The only witness to her hardship was the moon and an owl sitting above on the nearby branch. It twisted its head to the side and hooted curiously.

“What are you looking at? Never saw a Leshy before?” Mila prompted the owl defiantly. Then she smiled and smacked her dress, trying to dust off the dirt. “Of course you did. And that’s why you know I’m not one.” Another hoot came in response. “And you know what? You’re right. Enough is enough. I’m going on a self discovery journey.” She nodded in agreement with herself. “A little vacation. A girl deserves one, right?” 

The leaves in the trees rustled above in whispers as if silently agreeing with her as well and expressing worry at the same time. 

_Nah. I’ll deal with Lilia on the go._

She’ll figure something out and catch the guy in time. But first, she'll gather some strength, hone her skills a little and stretch her claws while doing that.

Mila looked around her properly, peace giving her a complete new and clear point of view. Now she had the time. She wasn’t chained anymore to follow the traces left behind. 

The woods here were very different from the ones back at home. They had a lot more life and freedom in them. She could sense the animals roaming around in plentiful herds and bugs copulating under the bark in large colonies. Birds sang their songs, almost making her believe it had been day for how loud their ballads were. It was a beautiful summer night.

Mila sneezed and with furrowed brows continued to walk on. 

_It should have been warm!_

Yet, she felt cold in this particular corner of the forest. The chase would indeed have to wait. 

_First shelter, then sleep. It’s a plan._

After an hour, just when she couldn’t feel her frozen thighs rubbing against each other, the shrubbery opened to a strange sight. 

On a little clearing was a wooden cottage. At least remnants from it, so it seemed. The roof collapsed in one place, its naked beams sticking out almost like burnt ribs. Bushes and trees were growing out of the empty ribcage, the windows and around the house itself. 

_Yep. It’s a disaster. Abandoned house alright. Perhaps the owners were driven out by some natural calamity? Maybe it was a loner, living in seclusion and being too old couldn’t repair the place?_

She split a nearby trunk of a young tree, judging it to be a good enough weapon if she needed to use one. It could happen that some lost animals lived inside… Ah, how she didn’t like when Lilia sent her out on errands. She never made it easy. Afterall her niece needed a challenge. 

_Worst places to visit, really._

Mila took a breath and walked ahead through what used to be a front yard. On the left was a sturdy barn in fairly good condition. On the right was a well. Upon throwing in a stone to check if there was water left, the splash positively exceeded her expectations. 

_Good. That’s a good sign._

The door was ajar, hanging sadly on one brave, persevering hinge. She almost felt sorry for it and rubbed the rusty iron with her fingertips gently.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll fix you. Thanks for holding on for so long.” She whispered and felt oddly adamant about it. It was strange how sure she was about this house. There was something whispering in the back of her mind, whispering the next clue, but she couldn’t put a finger on it. Thus she entered the house and explored the inside.

The rooms were dusty, separated into little sections by persistent cobweb curtains that took quite an effort to get through. There she found ruined furniture and dishes. She touched every object with care and sent prayers to them, promising to fix them as well or thanking them for their service. 

There were about five rooms. Another good surprise, however odd it was. A typical farm house or cottage was made of one or two rooms at best. From the outside this house looked small, but inside it was much larger. 

_Something is fishy here._

One she discovered the fifth room, iron taste spread on her tongue. It came in an overwhelming wave. All those empty rooms and things laying around, nothing prepared her for the feeling that washed over her in the doorway to the last chamber.

The moon shone inside through the missing roof and presented the stage as if on a shiny white plate. In the middle of the room stood a crumbled bed frame. A tree adorned with shrubbery and all kinds of flowers grew from it. Bellflowers, snowdrops, crocuses, dandelions… 

It didn’t make sense. Spring and summer mixed together. Yet the room was the coldest one? Soaking in the immense sorrow and despair, somehow Mila was drawn to go closer and her eyelids were falling, lulled by sleepiness. Some invisible hands were nipping gently on her fingers and tugging on the hem of her red skirt. Something wanted her inside very badly. The teardrop rolling down her own cheek shook her awake from falling trap to the strange urge. The dust above the bed whirled, reversed its course and Mila was again fully conscious. 

_No. I won’t go in there. Whatever is inside, it will have to rest longer._

She pushed the door back into the frame until it closed and returned to what used to be the kitchen. She had a lot to do.

❖❖❖

The work was hard. Making the house and surroundings habitable was a big task to take on. Mila was lucky that her arrival fell upon summer. This way she had warm days on her side and abundance of natural material fixes the house. The wood and branches in the forest were plentiful, never running out.

The tools were the first she looked for. For Mila it was a bit like hen looking for a needle in a stack of hay. Some were literally hidden under the hay, some completely rusty laying around in the yard. She had to be inventive and repurpose the handles or the iron parts to put together one usable tool. Nonetheless, once she sharpened them, the tasks were completed easier and with less strength invested. 

Perhaps the biggest hurdle she had to struggle with was grubbing. There was no living soul nearby, so she couldn’t ask anyone for help. The first day she took upon the task was entertaining since she had to chase out a badger which was particularly unhappy with her moving in. The animals appeared here and there, but always around the house only. None ever went inside the living quarters. As if a spell was put on the cottage, keeping them away. Mila decided not to dwell on it too much and even so - if a spell was in effect, it worked to her advantage.

Mila fixed the walls with wood and stuffed the holes with moss and hay. Roaming around the clearing, she found a lake and a willow. Good, she could go fishing and dry the spoils for winter. And the willow served as a source for making baskets and a broom. In the lake she washed the old rags found in a trunk and along with the broom cleaned the habitable rooms. Throughout the months, she never came back to the strange room and left it in peace, hoping she would be allowed to be in the house as well by whatever was resting inside. 

She couldn’t miss on how well the previous inhabitant cared for the house. It seemed so that there used to live at least one woman, but there were no traces of men or children. That was a bonus, since she found some remnants of older simple clothing, which were easy to fix. 

Mila was really happy her uncle Yakov enjoyed joinery and invested so much time into teaching her niece all kinds of things. The skill proved very useful. Bowls, cups, cutlery, combs and various wooden things she now could use in the household or for work. 

The seasons went by fast. The trees doned colorful autumn attire and shed it when the winter sneaked in. That’s how it felt - quick. The time surprised Mila and it was harder to forget her mission. The snow covered nature and it made a lot of room for thinking. Mila really didn’t want to think, especially not about serious things. Resting was nice and it allowed her to get back to herself again. But in the end she still enjoyed mingling and here in solitary it wasn’t happening. She missed the contact with the world. Playing a hermit wasn’t her thing.

Perhaps she was a bit cowardly? The harsh cold outside served as an excuse not to venture out too much. Days were shorter, so Mila quickly got her essential tasks done during the day and retired to the kitchen for the long evenings, trying to chase away the loneliness. The house seemed to accept her and not only that. It felt like it truly welcomed her.

❖❖❖

First there was nothing, then darkness. There were gentle caresses, ever so faint, but not enough to wake him up. Georgi took an eternity to come to. The little tugs pulling on his conscience, as if hands were traveling over his body. Sometimes a short burst of pain surprised him, but a sense of relief washed over him afterwards and he could sink back to slumber, practically embalmed in honey.

One day the pleasant feeling was so alluring that he emerged from the forgetful nothingness. 

Georgi felt bindly around himself with his hands and his fingers found something soft and sticky around him. Spiderwebs. He penetrated the layers of cobwebs easily. He pushed his head through the hole and saw into the light.

_Oh, hello again, friend._

The familiar pale coin in the sky was particularly crisp and with the chilly air filling his lungs, Georgi immediately realized it was winter. Old pains that sent him to sleep revisited him again in a quick flash of memories and he smiled bitterly. 

_Oh, how fitting to wake up into the coldest embrace of nature. Was it his inner, twisted desire for torment? To wake up in the frozen time, when the earth slept? No… it didn’t make sense._

Georgi observed the trashed roof in the moonlight and winced. His emotions left a disaster behind, truly destructive in nature. There was nothing scarier than an angry domovoi. 

_Why wake up in the first place? There is nothing for me to wake up for. Unless…_

He looked over the remnants of the room and didn’t understand. Until he noticed the door. I looked...fixed? Nailed in and isolated. 

_Were there people in the house?_

He walked through the door easily due to his powers and immediately saw an orange light dancing on the polished floorboards and walls.

_Someone is here! They did this. They cared for the house. They woke me up!_

He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that someone came back, inhabited the wreckage left behind and now lived here. 

Georgi was beside himself with excitement. He rushed fast to the kitchen’s door, giddy and eager to peek in carefully. The fragrance that hit his nostrils was a fest. The dried lavender, mushrooms and onion played a homely picture in his mind’s eye. He smelled thyme, clover, garlic and a lot of other spices. The moment he pushed the door a little ajar, it all got stronger, filling him with warmth and hunger for more. 

His eyes scanned the fairly large room. It was the heart of the whole household again. Lit by fire from the stone oven, behind a wooden table sat a young woman. Alone. Her fiery head was bent over something she was working on. Georgi couldn’t tell if her hair was red since the fire danced on the whole scenery and misled his eyes easily. He slept for too long, otherwise his catlike pupils would easily discern it for him.

He wasn’t sure what to do next. Under the cloak of invisibility he slid through the door in the form of a bug. He then climbed up the wall, landing on the tie beam and merged with the strut’s shadow in his true form again. From there he watched the woman, hovering above her head and surveilled the situation. 

She was carving a spoon. The scobs were scattering from underneath her nimble hands, all around her skirt and legs. The fire cracked lazy in the hearth and Georgi shifted on the beam a little closer, so he could see her a bit better. The stained wood under his feet betrayed him and let out a loud complaint. For a moment he wasn’t sure if the cracks of the burning coal were enough as a distraction, because the woman’s head snapped up and her hands stopped at their task. The soft hair on the back of his neck rose and he held his breath in anticipation.

When a domovoi started the journey of getting to know the house owner, it was an addictive process. Pretty much like candied fruit or plum conserved in honey. The owners didn’t know this, but their actions were viewed by the spirit almost like a form of courting . And depending on how the spirit received their “advances”, the reciprocation was given accordingly. If they treated the house poorly and left it messy, the spirit got angry, preparing hell on earth for the owners. If they were tidy and caring, the spirit rewarded them with prosperity, luck and health.

She returned back to her task reluctantly with a sigh and a strange sense of peace spread over them both. Georgi found it odd, that he smelled fern even though it wasn’t anywhere to be seen in the room. 

_Maybe it was the faint scent of the dried moss filling out the cracks in the walls?_

Just like that, the evening passed and it was time for bed. Georgi was really curious what would happen. Up until that moment, the woman was alone and there was no sight of anyone else. She didn’t look like she was expecting anyone either. He perched up as she swept the mess of the floor and stretched her stiff body. She added a few more logs into the fire and started to disrobe in the middle of the kitchen.

Georgi retreated deeper into the shadows in embarrassment and staring at the roof he wondered how he should proceed. Since he got involved with Anya, he found he couldn’t look at a human like before. Things changed and his perspective did shift exponentially. He listened to the faint rustling of fabric, then her shoes hit the floor and then she blew out the candle. Georgi couldn’t help it anymore and looked down again. After a moment of confusion, he noticed her bundled up in furrs and wool on the top of the oven. Just like little kids used to sleep in the tiny space, she fit in there easily.

 _How odd. Won’t she go lay down on a bed? Why does she sleep here and alone? Where is her family?_

He didn’t notice her wearing a lunnica nor svadebnyik. He couldn’t tell if she was looking for a partner or was married.

With the late hour, heat and darkness Georgi’s eyelids grew heavier and he let the exhaustion creep upon him. He used a fair amount of power to move around the house and it took a toll on him. He waited for a bit, until the woman settled in her place and her breathing leveled. Then he jumped down off the beam carefully, walked as a thief to the door back to where he first came from. He was about to pass the threshold, when she rustled under the furrs. He froze in his place and instinctively felt as if caught in the act. 

_How silly, she can’t see me._

“Good night.” She said sleepy and turned to the other side. It was muted, very silent and Georgi thought at first it must have been only his imagination. But replaying the two words in his mind on and on, he let the calmness of her voice caress his inside. He let it sink in.

She probably said it out of habit. Perhaps it was her own personal small ritual before going to sleep, to say it out to the dark empty room. Georgi could care less for her reasons, really. But the little act meant so much for him. Her feeling safe in this place he used to call his home. Her enjoying it enough to move in and fix the remaining mess of what it used to be. It sounded more like a “thank you” to his ears. Something you say after a long day of work, or as a response to a kind deed. 

_Thank you for being there for me._

Georgi walked through the door and down the hall. His lips twitched until they stretched into a wide smile. He had to cover his mouth with palms, otherwise the giggles would escape into the silent night, waking up the new mistress of the house. He rushed to his lone room and his cobweb cocoon all excited. The cold didn’t bother him, the frost didn’t hurt anymore. Georgi couldn’t wait to fall asleep, couldn’t wait to wake up and start another day again. Last vestiges of consciousness evaporated into the bright night along with his warm breath, but his heart was beating loud and excited till many hopeful dreams later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mention of bugs copulating
> 
> Chapter title from [Only when I lose myself - Depeche mode](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l35XzUD8GGU)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Did you like the work? Please let me know and share it :)  
> I appreciate the feedback and motivation!


	3. I like me better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young woman is a mysterious surprise. Their planned introduction won’t follow Georgi’s imagination but turns out into a surprising evolution. He might have misread a woman once more. Or perhaps not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings are posted at the end of the chapter - you can click on the more notes link and then return up with the button TOP.  
> I post these at the end so I don't spoil anything. Please proceed at your own caution.
> 
> No beta this time.
> 
> kosovorotka - a Russian, skewed-collared shirt

_I like me better when I'm with you  
I knew from the first time, I'd stay for a long time 'cause  
I like me better when  
I like me better when I'm with you_  
\- (Lauv - I like me better, 2017)

❖❖❖

For someone else it would be boring, but for Georgi it was an exciting fair attraction. He observed the woman every day and followed her footsteps closely. It wasn’t boring at all. The house chores were the favorite things for a domovoi and it also helped that time was flowing differently for spirits in comparison to humans.

First few weeks he could manage to be active only during the day. He needed to replenish his strength and relearn to use his powers in their full effect bit by bit. No one else came into the house and he still didn’t find any traces of another occupant. 

It was rather odd and opened doors to fantasizing. That was the most favorite pastime of Georgi, right after chores. He loved to combine those two but still didn’t dare. Helping with the chores was reserved for the later phase of the relationship between a domovoi and the house owner. After the courting was over and the terms between the two were set. And thus, Georgi only trailed after her the whole day, watching what she was doing and enjoying the sight.

He still didn’t know her name yet, since there was no chance to eavesdrop on conversations where it could come up. He hoped he would get to know it soon. He earned to present himself and praise her.

She was tidy, didn’t waste anything and had a few strange habits. She didn’t make a cross on the backside of the bread before cutting it, she washed in scalding hot water and sometimes she braided odd amulets or painted signs into the flour with her fingers.

 _Perhaps she was bored or had a creative side? Maybe it was a new way to praise a house spirit that I haven’t experienced before? I must have slept for a longer time than I initially thought. I missed out on the new fashionable customs._

Georgi didn’t give it another thought and indulged in the observations. Every little finding was like a little jewel for his collection. Each one replenished him in a way and helped to wash away the painful experience with Anya. It hurt less and less to recall her name. The young woman was a good enough distraction.

Her hair was indeed fiery, like the feathers of a phoenix. Georgi didn’t have a chance to touch them yet and not for lack of trying. One night, when he didn’t have to go sleep anymore to his room, he hovered over her. He perched on the oven, his pupils dilated and hypnotized by the burgundy color, waiting for the right moment to act. When her breathing got deeper and longer, he leaned closer over her head. 

_Fern. Again this fern._

The scent tickled his nose and distracted him momentarily. And suddenly he barely evaded the hand swishing through the air. She turned in her sleep angrily and smacked some invisible enemy from her dreams. Georgi almost fell off the oven and had to hold onto his chest, his heart was beating so fast. The rush of wanting to know how her hair felt to the touch and the danger of being discovered too early was an explosive concoction.

_What fun this is!_

Since then, he never tried to touch her again and instead focused on the space she occupied and on the things she came in contact with.

In the morning, when she was getting dressed and he didn’t want to see her naked, Georgi caressed her hairbrush. He smelled the fresh bread she finished baking before lunch. He liked to sit on the log, where she used to chop the wood a few minutes earlier. Her presence was calming and healing. 

_If she’s living here alone, how did she get all those supplies? Did she have savings and purchased those? It would be a lot of work for one person to prepare for winter on her own._

All those were questions he couldn’t ask and waited hungry for her future answer. He had to know all about her without any doubts of course. Otherwise the relationship wouldn’t work out. He wouldn’t want to take another chance and have the same “Anya” experience. Oh, he didn’t look for a lover yet, but he wanted a meaningful friendship and foster mutual respect. 

_Why bother otherwise?_

Georgi wanted to feel needed, useful and well… appreciated.

Sometimes his musings proved a bigger distraction and he started to make small mishaps.

She forgot her brush on the stool for example. He watched her absentmindedly and when she reached blind for it, he pushed it within her reach. Georgi barely retracted his hand and thankfully she didn’t touch it. Her hand found the comb and she continued with the morning routine.

Then the other time was also close. She was cooking a gruel and heard a window breaking in another room. The snowstorm was particularly strong that evening. If she didn’t rush to fix the broken glass, the snow and wind would cause a small calamity on the chamber. As she jumped away from the oven, she forgot to put the pot away from the fire and run out of the kitchen.

Georgi felt sorry and worried. He had excellent skills in fixing broken glass. There was this fantastic spell he was taught in his early childhood. But, he still had reservations and didn’t want to show himself too early. It’s been only a month.

As he paced the kitchen, listening to her hammering a plank on the window frame, lost in thought, he walked over to the pot and stirred the gruel with spatula. He heard her cursing and caught himself in the act. 

_Oh, no. The spatula was on the table, clean. Now I dipped it into the gruel and when she comes back, she’ll know…_

Troubled, he was looking at the table, on the spatula and again at the table. Panic hit him hard and the instinct kicked in. 

_Make the spatula clean! Make it clean, fast!_

Georgi showed the spatula into his mouth and instantly regretted his decision. The gruel burned his tongue like lava. He had a hard time suppressing the painful yell. He heard her rushing back into the kitchen again to save the meal from fore and he instantly dropped the spatula in shock.

She stopped all startled, looking at it in confusion. The spatula laid there all clean, lonely and clearly very lost on the journey from the table towards the pot. Then simply shaking her head, she picked it up and washed it a nearby bucket. Just like that, accepting the happening as if it were nothing and completely ordinary. And so the gruel survived, she didn’t make the connection and Georgi with horribly burned tongue was undiscovered.

He got by on lucky chances. His mistakes were very foolish, the kind that only an inexperienced domovoi would cause. A greenhorn. Everytime something like this happened Georgi was embarrassed, relieved and yet a bit sad - all at the same time. 

_Do I really have to fight it so hard? Can’t I just show myself to her?_

Nah. That wasn’t his style. He wanted to do it lavishly, present gifts and offerings. He liked to impress, to shine and appear as an admirable and seasoned house spirit.

❖❖❖

Mila liked to watch the fire, when she didn’t do anything with her hands during the lonely evenings. She missed the fun and the flames, dancing around on the logs, reminded her own dances with her friends. She was the best at jumping high over the bonfire. Mila still almost felt the glow on her legs and the sparks stinging her hot skin. With enough imagination, she could see the fire tongues forming into lively figures. Mesmerized, she let them dance in a circle. Sometimes she imagined they were dancing around each other just like people did during May around the pole, covering it with ribbons. 

She might have danced on her own, if she didn’t notice the fishy silhouette in the corner of her eye. Careful, Mila stood up, as if to rearrange the longs with the iron poker and fiddled with it, while trying to get a better glimpse on the darker shadows around the beams. She feld odd for some time now, but couldn’t put a finger on it quite yet. She often felt eyes on her back, as if someone was inside with her in the house. Mila knew something was resting in the last demolished room, so it could be it woken up and was measuring her up. 

_The question is, is it a friend or fiend?_

Few times, she saw a shadow running by, as if a cat got startled. Then there were the temperature shifts. The house seemed to talk around her, creaking and rifting. She wasn’t sure if it was due to its old age or if it was trying to send a different kind of message.

_What if the house doesn’t like me? I don’t think I’ve treated it poorly. What if the house doesn’t want any occupants despite that?_

Perhaps she’d have to use dirty tricks Lilia taught her. She’d have to see just yet.

Then one evening, she saw it. A tall figure moved like a siberian tiger. Its proportions resembled a human but the motion was definitely of a feline character. At first it was almost always out of her sight around the edges of the room. When she left the house, it didn’t follow her, so she quickly confirmed it was definitely something tied to the house.

_So a spirit. What kind though?_

Weeks passed and she was almost sure it was a man. During one night, she felt a presence looming over her head and then following her to the bed on the oven. The proximity was starting to trouble her, so she shooed it away, pretending to turn in her sleep. The mood of the room shifted and it wasn’t threatening anymore. She heard the presence retreat into the corridor and she quickly jumped out of the furrs, spying through the door crack.

_Ah! There he is!_

It was a man coming and going from the fifth room. He hid behind the stove, crawled on the ceiling, hid behind the hung up herbs like a spider. And he enjoyed spying on her immensely.  
Mila would be bothered, but it amused her greatly, how courteous he was. When she undressed or needed privacy, he took leave. 

The longer he stayed around her, she was able to see his contours and recognize his shape properly. At a certain point, she understood he didn’t realize she could see him. Mila decided to use it to her advantage and see if she was welcome or not. She didn’t plan spending her quality time away from her responsibilities with another person in the dwelling. However, she was growing bored, so a little fun didn’t sound so bad.

The man took his time and didn’t try to talk to her. It was very hard not to address him, she was chatty by nature after all. Mila knew she was living on borrowed time and in a borrowed place. Thus she left it to the spirit to make the first move.

She felt a bit silly afterward, because the amulets she made for protection weren’t needed. The spirit was rather...shy. He wasn’t forceful at all and didn’t try to push the invisible boundaries she set up. When she almost smacked him in the face, he never perched over her bed again. 

With the time she undressed with confidence, perhaps even wanting him to look. It gave her power and joy, to be on top of the situation, without him having any clue he was actually spotted.

Months passed by and December came. By that time she saw he relaxed around her, because he dropped his guard and did little things for her. He saved her burning food, sometimes found her scarf she displaced or caught a cup she tossed over by mistake. All those little signs and gestures made her sure that the right time to talk arrived.

She tried to shake it off, but the whole week pondering on how to do it made her restless. It started to rob her sleep and she didn’t enjoy it. 

_That’s it! It’s tonight._

And just like that, she was ready for the mission. Mila prepared the scauldron and cooked the gruel. She swirled a generous scoop of honey on top and sure enough, the cool draft from the corridor wafted inside the kitchen, bringing in the smell of frosted tinder and cedar. To add on the lure, she cut a handful of walnuts and sprinkled them on the dish. He almost approached the fire. 

Cunning, she made a bee line around him to the table and sheltered the bowl with her body. Then, when the moment couldn’t wait anymore, she sat down on the other side and pouring the tea she called towards him.

“Do you want the tea strong or weak?”

“Strong please, that’s my favorite.” His poised, deep voice answered on instinct politely. 

_Simple as that. She snickered internally and thought, she liked it already._

“Oh.”

He quickly realized he answered on a reflex and was taken aback. He stepped from one foot to another and clutched his chest over his heart in momentary distress. She poured the second cup and pushed the second bowl towards in encouragement.

“Come, sit! It will go cold. I've served you the gruel too. I hope you like nuts and honey.”

Mila winked towards him, hoping it would give him the needed push. It worked because he rushed to the table, sat on the chair, proper like a grandson visiting his grandmother. His eyes were sparkling with bits of hope, a bit like pale sapphires. 

❖❖❖

The gruel tasted even better than Georgi imagined. He took one bite for the sake of politeness but soon couldn't stop himself. As a spirit he didn't need to eat food. He existed on different means, on the symbiotic relationship between the owner and a domovoi. Somehow the gruel, even if plain, tasted of real home, care and devotion. He had so many questions but the hunger took over and didn't leave room for talking until the plate was empty. If he could he'd lick it clean.

She must have noticed Georgi's desire for more, but didn't say anything. She just smiled lightly and refilled his plate. 

"Thank you. It's…" He hesitated, not wanting to appear too eager. "I add the cinnamon and raisins in my recipe, but this is very tasty as well."

"Oh, my aunt prefers that one! Thank you. I'm glad you like it." She answered cheerfully and just then he noticed her silent eagerness. She waited for him to go on and make the proper introduction.

Georgi missed on his grand reveal, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t try to make one. He coughed into his fist and stood up as if waiting for the curtain to rise. Then he twisted gracefully, cutting the air with his one arm and bowed towards her.

“Now I welcome you here in the house officially. I am Georgi Popovich, the spirit of the house - domovoi. Are you ready to enter a contract with me?”

His dramatic introduction didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of being awed, she just hid her lover part of the face under a palm and tried not to laugh. 

_Is this good?_

Georgi stuck out his chin, facing the situation bravely and didn’t want to give up on his grand finale. Now it was up to her in which direction their relationship would head towards. In a much lighter manner than Georgi before, she cleared her throat and braced herself on the table. She raised her cup with tea exactly like a man in a tovern would and yelled out.

“I am welcomed and greet you, oh the great Domovi. My name is Mila Babicheva and I hereby accept your offer! Cheers!”

Then she went into the cupboard and fished out a bottle of Medovukha. Snickering, she whispered secretive as she poured a large gulp of it into their cups with tea. “Now, let’s talk details and get drunk, not necessarily in that order. The night is young and I haven’t spoken with a living soul for two seasons. Da?”

_Mila! Oh, how fantastic. Now he could call her by her name and what a splending one it was!_

Georgi laughed heartily and dropped his theatrical pose. They clinked their cups and began the long conversation, forgetting the world around for a brief moment in time.

❖❖❖

Georgi discovered it was incredibly easy to talk to Mila. It felt like he had known her for a long time even from the moment she came into the house. The Medovukha made it almost effortless and loosened his tongue.

The words slipped from his mouth like scales from eyes, soft and light. Mila didn’t shy from asking sensitive questions. Yet he didn’t mind and found out that he actually wanted to answer them without hesitation. He told her everything. About the house, Anya and how things turned out.

The pain was still present there, but it wasn’t as searing anymore. Georgi could talk about the past without anger and mostly only with sadness. Mila’s presence made his whole outlook on his existence and the future different - exciting and refreshing.

She was like a friend. With each passing hour he found he wanted to know a lot more about her. It didn’t feel quite enough. To his questions she answered light and carefree, yet somehow it didn’t tell him much? 

“I was traveling from my aunt to see my foreign family. The traveling was long and I thought I’d stay here. I guess I needed some break? And now, I don’t have the drive or heart to leave?”

She shrugged her shoulders and poured another cup. Georgi added a log into the fire and sat back beside Mila on the fur covered bench. It was very, very nice. Warm and cozy.

“I’m so glad you came here. And that you cared enough to fix it up. Thanks it means a lot.”

“Really? I’ve basically only prevented more damage. There’s a lot more to be done.”

“Now we’re two, so it’ll be easier and faster.”

Five more cups later, the tiredness creeped in on them but they couldn’t seem to push themselves apart. Having company was just as intoxicating as alcohol. Despite the chill outside, the heat surprised Georgi and he had to loosen the collar on his kosovorotka. It didn’t escape Mila’s attention, because she turned towards him and while leaning on the wall for support she went on with giggles erupting from her throat occasionally.

“Wow, look at those pronounced collarbones! How do you keep your skin so pale, wait does it actually shimmer?” She exclaimed and turned to whisper abruptly. “Amazing.” Before Georgi could ingest the compliment, he fingers traces his throat upward to his jaw and then he found himself face to face with stunned Mila.

He laughed and mumbled playful half truths: “I bathed in the milky way! Moon dresses me every night in its shiny cape.”

“What pronounced cheekbones and that prominent nose! You’re a true eagle!” Mila smiled, drawing a line on his nose and then dabbed it softly as if making a point. 

And then he'd seen how close she was, too tactile. Her eyes threw a sultry shade, her fingers cupped the back of his jaw, right under his ear. Perhaps she even caressed his earlobe, he wasn’t sure anymore, but it didn’t matter, because his attention was robbed by her lips hovering above his.

He smelled fern and sage. Her nose rubbed against his and then it wasn’t funny anymore. Georgi heard her whispering something and it made him think of honey and spiders. The vision was so vivid as if he was trapped inside a beehive and laid rest to sleep in cobwebs again. All it took to close the miniscule distance was a little tilt of his head and they would have kisses.

But they didn’t. Georgi didn’t. The remembrance on Anya’s skirt swirling past him, the door hitting the wall after she left. Georgi remembered the distant thunder and rain. He shook himself awake from the sweet, dripping moment and gently pushed her away.

“I think I’ve had too much Medovukha for one night. Perhaps we both need to retire? Sounds alright?”

“Awh, already? I didn’t think I’d drink you under the table so fast!” Mila didn’t show if she was disappointed and simply patted him on his thick thighs. “But you’re right, I can barely keep my eyes open.”

Perhaps Georgi was only imagining it and she wasn’t trying to make advances on him. They just officially met. She didn’t look or behave like a loose girl either. Perhaps she was just very affectionate and liked to show it. 

_Yes, that must be it._

He made a point to wake up early and planned to clean up, perhaps a surprise breakfast for them both would be nice. He nodded to himself and was about to open the door to the hallway - from the moment of introduction, he made a conscious effort to behave as humanely as possible. That meant opening doors and moving around in his human form among other things.

“Georgi?” Her surprisingly somber voice alerted him. “Yes?” He tilted his head in question. She was halfway, crawling onto the oven again for the sleep and measure him up seriously. “Don’t spy on me in my sleep anymore, ok?”

All the shadows could not hide the scarlet blush in his cheeks and he nodded courtly. It was pointless to play a fool or deny anything.

“I wish you good night, my lady.”

“Night, night!”

It took a while until his heart calmed down in his room.

_Just how on earth did she know he was spying on her?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Georgi burns his tongue on a scalding gruel. Mila and Georgi drink alcohol and get intoxicated.
> 
> Chapter title from [I like me better (from Lauv - I Like Me Better)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7fzkqLozwA)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Did you like the work? Please let me know and share it :)  
> I appreciate the feedback and motivation!


	4. To unravel my return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mila’s secrets don't stop Georgi from building a friendship.  
> He opens up to her and shares his dreams of finding his wife someday again. Odd signs begin to appear in the house and around in the woods and the bliss Georgi found is threatened by looming danger. Worst of all, Mila has to leave for an uncertain time and Georgi finds it hard to part ways with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings are posted at the end of the chapter - you can click on the more notes link and then return up with the button TOP.  
> I post these at the end so I don't spoil anything. Please proceed at your own caution.
> 
> No beta this time.
> 
> da - yes in russian  
> Kikimora - russian house spirit, an opposite to domovoi, bad spirit in the service of Baba Yaga, she can be the wife of a domovoi  
> Milochka - diminutive form of Mila in Russian  
> Vatrushka - a popular Russian ring-shaped pastry that is usually filled with sweet cottage cheese and topped with raisins or other pieces of fruit, although it can also be made with fruit jams or meat

_Aunque las nubes se alejen  
Y mi piel siga en sequía  
Voy a llegar algún día  
A destejer mi regreso_  
\- (iLe - Vienen a Verme (Theme from ‘El Chapo’ Series) - Translation to English [here](https://genius.com/Genius-english-translations-ile-vienen-a-verme-theme-from-el-chapo-series-english-translation-lyrics).

❖❖❖

Anything that Georgi planned to impress Mila with didn’t work out from the first moment. Just like that botched introduction, every other attempt went downhill. He planned that surprise breakfast and there she was. Up, outside and chopping wood in the crisp fresh morning while he just managed to crawl from his cocoon. She greeted him back, but shook her head in dismissal when he offered to take over for her. 

He couldn’t go out and get her fruits or berries as treats. The flowers were sleeping on the ground under the heavy snow, so a bouquet was out of the question as well. That was a pretty useless friend-suitor arsenal he had available.

Thus he settled with sweeping the floor, washing the dishes. There weren’t that many anyway. 

It was very, very hard to be useful to Mila.

Anything he wanted to do, she was faster to it and treated him almost as if he were just a guest, enjoying her hospitality. The difference was not bad. It was a pleasant surprise at first. However, after a while it completely overwhelmed his house spirit instincts. Georgi lived for being useful and he couldn’t handle it anymore. He phatomed about how to approach her with the subject but the talk turned out to be a lot easier than he imagined. It took a couple of days until Mila couldn’t stand Georgi roaming around like a mindless ghost and some broken cups later, she faced him with a confrontation. Finally he had to come out with the burden that was bothering him.

“That’s it? And you’ve stressed over this for the past week like a madman? I thought you became sick or something!” She laughed and slapped his shoulder rather jovial and wiped away her spontaneous tears. “Georgi, next time just tell me. That’s all you have to do, da?” Then she patted Georgi’s thigh and showed a cutting board with a knife and onions on top of it towards him. “Now, peel and cut these for me. That’ll be a major help!”

Well, she did ask for help… And thus Georgi sighed and did as she said. There was a certain bit of a masochist in a domovoi, or perhaps it was only Georgi? He couldn’t have charmed the sting of the onion juices away, yes. But where would be the honoring of the task and skill? He left the end of the onion attached and soaked them good in cold water before dicing them. Nonetheless his speed didn’t repel the juices from his eyes and he spilled a few tears here and there.

_Who said the start would be easy anyway?_

❖❖❖

Some time went by and Georgi gathering his full strength back, started to need very little sleep to recuperate. He put the time on his hands into good use, namely surveilling the house and inspecting it’s every little nook and cranny. He had big plans for it. 

_Renovation._

It was time to fix the damage and put the place in shape. There was a new human inside - his human. As a domovoi he had to do something to maintain his reputation and show off his skills.

First he decided to straighten up the room he slept in. Not for his own comfort, but to prevent a draft from sneaking in the inner, habitable parts of the house. The spider webs from his former cocoon proved as useful material. With the help of the allure he spun them into desired shape, then used them as building blocks and bit by bit replaced the missing beams, roof tiles and then some. The repairs went well and as planned, Mila didn’t notice anything. In about three nights he bid a final goodbye to the moon through the hole in the roof as he laid a last shingle in its place. The roof was sealed.

Then came the bed. He desired to see Mila in it, bundled up under the softest covers and away from the hard oven top. 

_No more stove. She’ll sleep like a human again! A grown woman needs a big bed to rest in. No more crammed, farmhand, resting space. No more twisting to fit the frame for a small child._

The old bed was beyond repair, so Georgi thought about making a new one. 

_It should be made of wood that keeps the warmth inside. Birch or mahogany. I’ll carve roosters on the bedpost and fern on the frame. Then I’ll paint them in fiery colors, yellow, red and maroon. Just like Mila’s hair. And the fern will smell like her. Magnificent! Yes, I’ll do that._

If Mila noticed something after all, she didn’t mention it or ask. Fixing the room during her sleep was not a big hassle. But he had to get the wood and sometimes, when he looked too long for it in the woods, he returned late in the morning. 

“Are you cold?” She asked, when he entered the kitchen, pretending he had just woken up. “You look paler than usual and I’d say your nose is almost violet.” She cupped his cheek with her palm and frowning she measured his temperature. 

Georgi’s heart skipped a little but quickly took her hand and kissed it gentlemanly, shifting the attention away from himself. “Fear not, my Lady. I am fit as a fiddle. I don’t feel cold as humans do. I live from other things.”

“Oh. Then what do you live on?” Mila inquired with interest. 

“I need order. Cleanliness. And sometimes a touch of nature. Sip of water. But a little leaf keeps me going for months.” He walked around the table, laid the logs in a neat pile inside the oven and then turned to her. “But the richest nurturing food is, well - my owner.”

Mila stood in her place unmoving and had eyes as big as platters. “Say again, what? You’ll...eat me? Don’t tell me the house is feeding off of me or something. Are you serious?”

Georgi let her come down from the shock and then casually blew over his open palm toward the logs and lit them on fire with his magic. When the fire came to life and they heard the wood cracking lazy in the oven, he turned back to her. 

“It’s a bit complicated to explain, but it’s essentially true. Well, you see, no one or nothing is actually nibbling at your body.”

“Well I hope not.” She interrupted him a bit offended.

He poured her a cup of hot tea and blushing, he began explaining in better detail.

“Well, a domovoi offers a contract. I give you health, peace and prosperity. And you… well, you give me energy. It’s not eating at your lifespan. Sometimes you just might feel a little tired. A good kind of tiredness like…” Georgi paused looking for the right example. “Like when you do a lot of housework or… well. Things. In your...bedroom?”

_That escalated quickly. How did it though? Oh, I’ve messed up. So bad._

“Like sex?”

“Uh. Yes.”

“Sex.”

“And housework, like I said!”

_Why did she get stuck on that one thing? Wasn’t the housework the ultimate orgasm for a woman if done by someone else?_

“Georgi, does it really feel like I’m gonna orgasms when you clean my kitchen for me?” Mila leaned towards him and still frowning asked dubiously. As if she couldn’t believe it, but like it wouldn’t be a bad scenario if it were actually true.

“Yes. No! I, I mean, it might - I don’t know! Can we just move onto another topic? It's making me feel a little uncomfortable. I don’t want you to start getting a strange idea.”

 _Is she pulling my leg or is she serious?_

Georgi wasn’t sure he wanted to figure out which option was the correct one.

She took a sip from her tea and prodded after deliberating a bit. “Sure. But I don’t have any strange ideas. We’re ok. We can be anything that we want to be. Right?”

Something in the back of his mind whispered to him, that they were having different conversations at the same time. The voice however was too silent and Georgi dismissed it like an imaginary fly with a shake of a hand.

“Yes, we’re good friends. And I’d like to keep it that way. Until we find someone as a partner at least.” He was too embarrassed to see her expression and watched his own fiddling hands delivering the small monologue.

“Oh, so you’re still looking for a partner then? A human or...” she left the sentence unfinished. Perhaps unsure what exactly the creature would be? Georgi wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was good timing to spill the beans.

“I am. Someday, I hope I will. Perhaps not right away. The last experience was less than convincing.” His lips formed a crooked smile and he shook his shoulder as if it weren’t a big deal. “Well some day, I’d like to find my own person. Maybe she or he would become my Kikimora.” Georgi accepted a cup from Mila and asked in return. “And what about you? What about your family or friends?”

“It’s a bit complicated? Our family bonds are...strained? I’m not sure what the right word for it is.” She laughed a bit, but it didn’t bother her too much. “I’m sure it will pass, it will need some time. Right now, I’m taking my free time from all that and I will see what will happen. If someone does come around, then why not. I think living your life to the fullest is important and so is seizing the chances that are being offered.”

Georgi felt as if they were connected on the same wavelength again and they smiled for a while, enjoying each other’s company. 

“Now, let’s get some breakfast, I’d like to go fishing today. And maybe, if I’m lucky, we’ll have fish for lunch.” Mila prompted Georgi to set the table and made the cauldron for gruel ready.

“That’s a great idea.”

❖❖❖

While Mila was gone fishing, Georgi took the opportunity to examine the house once more, looking for new things to fix. There was always something to spruce up, a domovoi never rested. Once he waved Mila goodbye in the yard, he faced the entrance of the house and looked on its front with his magic eyes.

The colors diminished and all turned grayish. Old and crumbling things exuded red tint, making it easy to find them. There was a field of redness, something he expected and counted with. However a glimpse of red darker than the rest caught his eye. He followed the secretive shimmer and found the source underneath the porch. 

Right beneath the stair, buried in the ground was a glowing burgundy stone. Perhaps a jewel? Georgi pushed the snow away and used his true strength. The solid frozen dirt cracked and gave way to his fingers. He fished out a small bundle wrapped in a scrap. His sharp nails unwinded it quickly and uncovered the item inside. He immediately dropped it like a hot coal once he understood what it was.

_Totem of Baba Yaga!_

When Georgi slept, someone or something must have been there and buried the talisman underneath the entrance door. It could mean many things, but of few he was sure. A talisman marked the place as if with an invisible seal. It meant that Baba Yaga was claiming the place. It was unlikely she didn’t notice Georgi’s presence during his sleep. Was she making a statement, wanting him out of the house? Or looking for something here in his house? It could also be a warning to passers by, letting them know she had been there and to keep out.

No matter what exactly it was, it didn’t mean anything good. Spirits getting in the conflict about the territory wasn’t anything new. Georgi just like any other spirit knew, this was a lot more serious. You didn’t mess with Baba Yaga. In a tier of spirits she was near the top. A domovoi was simply beyond his strengths considering a dispute with Baba Yaga.

He really should hurry, fix the house and seal the contract with Mila. Baba Yaga didn’t like lively places and it might turn her off of claiming the place as hers. The house was in a remote location but not as remote as she liked to reside in.

What if she has some business with Mila? No, that couldn’t be, Mila was a human. Disputes were always between spirits. Baba Yaga claimed humans only when they approached her. And Mila was doing the opposite, looking for solitude. Just as she explained earlier to Georgi.

No, Georgi will make sure all is well and Mila can live in his house in peace and harmony. And if a dispute does happen, it won’t mean Georgi will not try his chances.

Determined he crushed the talisman and made the dust burn away into nonexistent vapor. He had a present to make ready or Mila.

❖❖❖

Mila came back with a basket hiding a big fat carp. Georgi took it away from her and pulled her through the corridor towards his room. He insisted on taking off her coat as they approached the door and Mila let him do it in the confusion. He fought away all her nosy questions about what he had in mind and simply prompted her to push the doorknob.

The little stars in her eyes fired up brighter once the door opened under her pressure. She saw the sunlit room and the new bed inside. To Georgi’s joy, Mila immediately ran inside and threw herself on the freshly made bed. Her weight made the bed puf loud as she sunk in the thick feather comforter.

“This is gorgeous! I love it! Thank you, thank you!” She moved her arms and legs simultaneously just as if she painted an angel in the snow. “So much space! Look at all this space!”

Georgi was proud and his smile grew with each of her excited praise. 

“Come here and join me! Don’t let the bed go to waste! I might get lost in here!”

He didn’t think twice and fell on the sheets beside her, enjoying the laughter and happiness. The glint in Mila’s eyes made his chest swell with satisfaction and something softer than any feather. He quickly got distracted since Mila wrestled with him and started a full on pillow fight.

Georgi knew it was the start of something good.

❖❖❖

The drunkenness of the good feeling didn’t linger without a price. As Georgi was mapping around the surrounding woods of the house, he found marks on the trees left behind a Leshy. Way too many marks. It looked like a battlefield. They were strewn around like freshly burst poppy seeds in their abundance. 

So it seemed there was a fight for territory among Baba Yaga and Leshy. Two spirits you didn’t want to mess with. One was big enough of a problem. 

Georgi caressed the bark of the tree and looked up into its crown with determination. He was definitely set on protecting the house for Mila. If two strong spirits fought, there would be a chance to slide on their conflict and avoid possible casualties. Georgi will protect Mila at all costs.

❖❖❖

The peace for Georgi wasn’t meant to be apparently, since Mila made a trip to the closest town and once she was back she was unusually tired. The trip was long but it was more her expression that troubled him. A low frown was settled on her brows and her head bowed down in pensive thoughts.

Georgi made her tea with a bit or rum to warm her up and rubbed her shoulders gently. “What is troubling you, Milochka?”

His calloused fingers felt the stress escape from underneath his fingertips the moment he asked. She sighed and offered a reason.

“My aunt sent a letter to me. Our cat escaped and I should come help look for it. She also wants to see me, so she’s using the occasion to get me back to the family. It’s a special cat and responds to me well, so it’s not an unreasonable request.”

_Oh._

Georgi hesitated and kneaded her muscles with ease.

“Well, the earlier you leave the earlier you’ll come back, right? Are you worried about meeting the family? Perhaps worried you won’t find a cat?”

“Oh, I am not worried about the cat, it’s a smart and loyal animal, so we’ll find it easily. I’m just not keen on talking with my aunt. There’s gonna be some pressure on certain family topics… I’d like to enjoy my freedom some more you know?”

He caught a knot on her nape and she sighed in bliss. As he worked it out, Georgi thought about what words of support he could offer.

“I’ll see you off as far as I can. And once you return, I’ll have something nice waiting for you.”

She made a sulking face and leaned back onto him. Mila sighed heavily again and succumbed.

“You take such good care of me. You’re a great domovoi, Georgi! Spend the night with me?”

It wasn’t the first time she asked for his company and it meant just what she asked for. They enjoyed each other's company in the large bed and talked for hours until she fell asleep usually. Sometimes Georgi joined her despite not really needing sleep.

That night however he just caressed her back and couldn’t help fighting away the worry. Mila’s presence was pleasant and he knew he’d miss her when she’d be gone.

❖❖❖

They almost reached the edge of the woods and that was where Georgi stopped her. He gave her the wicker crate full of Vatrushkas he made for her earlier. 

“So, this is it, you can’t go further?”

“Sadly not, I don’t want to leave the house on its own and my powers would diminish almost completely.” Georgi stepped from one leg to another and pointed to the crate once more. “I’ve added some wine for your trip, it should warm you up nicely.”

Mila nodded and put the crate’s leather shoulder straps properly with his help. He took her hand and put a small talisman in her palm. It was a tiny, wooden domovoi representation. 

“Keep it close so you have a piece of home with you at all times. May you find your way back safely.”

He really meant it, Mila was dear to him and having her close before leaving for an uncertain time was distressing. She must have understood his feelings, because she squeezed his hand in return and then he just smelled fern all around.

Then it was just Mila kissing him firmly on his lips in a long, solid kiss. However it was over sooner then he could have gotten used to it. She departed with a loud smack and a broad smile.

“Thank you, I’ll be back soon!”

Georgi rubbed his lips watching her back disappearing into the distance and couldn’t shake of the strange bad feeling. He resisted the urge to follow her since it felt as if she shouldn’t ever come back.

Despair gripped at the back of his neck and breathed on its fine hair.

❖❖❖

Time wasn’t Georgi’s friend. As a spirit he quickly lost the sense of it without Mila’s presence. He knew the day and night changed chronologically. But how many days it has been since Mila left it was, he had no clue. It might have been a couple of days maybe a week or two. Either way Georgi grew restless and worried.

He paced the floor boards and listened to the cacophony of the fire cracking in the oven and owl hooting near the house.

_What if something happened to her? On the way to her family? Maybe she never even reached the destination? Did they go look after her?_

The whirlwind of thoughts attacked him all at once and Georgi cursed. He rushed to the door, ready to turn into a cat so he could run after Mila’s tracks. However, the door opened right in front of him and he almost crushed into the newcomer.

_Mila!_

He practically leaped to her side ready to hug the hell out of her. Yet the sight of her stopped him again. She was full of scratches on her face and hands, even her skirt was torn on several places.

_Just what happened to her?_

“Let me go, you hag! Don’t pull!” 

The loud complaints brought Georgi’s attention to the second visitor, a young man almost two heads smaller than Mila. He looked like an angry blond cat with flashing green eyes, burning with hatred. He was tied with a rope and Mila tugged upon it, directing him to move.

_What in the heavens was going on?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mila is scratched on her face and hands. She has Yuri on a leash and tied with a rope as a prisoner against his will.
> 
> Chapter title from [To unravel my return (from iLe - Vienen a Verme)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oB3j23X-JuI)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Did you like the work? Please let me know and share it :)  
> I appreciate the feedback and motivation!


	5. Tender is the fur, dying as you purr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further secrets come to light and Georgi is honest with himself to the point of breaking barriers. Will he handle the sacrifice that it brings? Just who really is Mila? Does Georgi have a place in her life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings are posted at the end of the chapter - you can click on the more notes link and then return up with the button TOP.  
> I post these at the end so I don't spoil anything. Please proceed at your own caution.
> 
> No beta this time.
> 
> Sarafan - is a long, trapezoidal Russian jumper dress

_She is neither pink nor pale,  
And she never will be all mine;  
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,  
And her mouth on a valentine._

\- Witch-Wife by Edna St. Vincent Millay)

❖❖❖

_This is very not ok. So, so wrong. How can this be right?_

The situation was at best odd. Somehow Georgi couldn’t wrap his head around it. What was the meaning of that? Mila bringing another man into their home and tied up nonetheless? Who was it? Surely not someone she cared for, otherwise she would not treat him like a prisoner, right? 

Georgi had so many questions, but they all got stuck in his throat. He could only gasp a few times like a carp, flapping around on the ice covered river when it got caught for dinner. He didn’t dare to speak, since he was wary about showing himself to newcomers. A domovoi had to maintain some rules, the owner-spirit relationship was rather exclusive and not to be shared with just anyone. It served as protection for all sides. Therefore Georgi decided to wait for a later moment and stay invisible. When it came down to it, Mila was the house owner and he wanted to give her the benefit of doubt.

Mila acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary. She tugged the rope after her, leading the captive inside. She didn’t seem to mind the curses and shed her jacket with relieved grunting. Then she set water for tea and tied the man to the bench behind the kitchen table. The complaints got louder but she simply threw a wool rug on him and waited for the water to boil patiently.

Georgi stood by clenching his fists, rubbing his chin and crossing his hands with anxiety. All he could do was just wait. 

Mila passed the man a hot cup of tea. “Drink it.” Even though he glared at her and didn’t thank her, his eagerness to hide the cup in his cold hands was evident. The rug wasn’t enough to warm him up quickly. He was frozen to the bone and passing on the chance to dethaw would have been unwise.

“Up, up.” She said after a while, when he finished the drink. 

“Make me!” The man challenged her, his chin sticking out in defiance. Georgi noticed he was fairly young, not a boy anymore but not yet a grown man. His body was looking older and Georgi’s sharp cat eyes found a growing goatee. 

Indeed, why didn’t he try to get free? The rope didn’t look very strong and he could most likely overpower Mila too because she handled the rope like a leash on a small puppy, soft and relaxed. It didn’t make any sense. He was all bark but no bite. 

She took out a beautifully carved pocket knife and pressed its tip underneath the man’s chin. She did it with a friendly smile, just as if she patted his nose with a flower. “We can do this the hard way, by all means, Yuri.” Her sweet voice didn’t remind of honey nonetheless. She let Yuri swallow a few times to gather his courage, but when he didn’t give any answer, she pulled away the knife. “That’s what I thought! Now let’s get you to your cage!” She exclaimed with a glee, as if she offered a stay at a famous inn. “I’ll make it nice and cozy for you!”

This wasn’t like Mila. At all. The picture and sound were the same, but the melody just didn’t come off right. It was a grotesque koncerts solo. The deeper the melody sunk in, the stronger the voice of reason screamed. Georgi, the poor carp, was thrown into the freezing water again instantly. 

_This must be a bad dream! There is an explanation, it will all be cleared up._

He would just have to wait a little for Mila to come back and then he can talk to her in private.

The couple made its way out of the house. Georgi rushed after them, hoping that she was perhaps only joking. Unfortunately she wasn’t. Mila led Yuri into the shed. She knocked on its door and after a pause, she opened it. To Georgi’s confusion following her odd behavior, a real cage was inside, made of strong branches and fit but for a small pig or a few hens. Georgi could have sworn, it wasn’t there when Mila left to visit her family. 

“No! No, no! I will not go inside!” Yuri yelled at her, angry and shaking. “Lock me in the shed, but I won’t go inside the cage! You can’t treat me this way! I am your-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” She chided him. “Not yet and not ever. You were supposed to be my husband. But let’s not head that way, yes? I am sure you wouldn’t enjoy such a commitment anyway.” She opened the cage and made Yuri crawl inside on his knees. Once he was inside, she closed the door and used a simple wooden stake to prevent it from opening.

_Won’t Yuri break it easily or just reach around and pull it out of the lock? Why bother?_

Then Mila knocked on the cage twice and nodded with satisfaction. “That should do it. Now, say good night, ok?”

“I will say something else and then some! Don’t you think this is over, you hear me?!” The knife long gone from Yuri’s sight loosened his tongue and let his courage flow wild. However the loud threats didn't have ground to stand on, especially if shouted from inside a cage. 

Mila certainly didn’t seem to mind, she closed the shed and simply headed back to the house. As if she bid good night to livestock after a long day of well done work.

Georgi howevered around the shed, trying to piece his mind together, unsure where he stood in all this. He heard Yuri curse and complain, rattling the cage. It must have been an elaborate joke, since Yuri could get out and then run into the woods. But he didn’t. Instead he stayed inside and acted as if there was a spell cast on him.

“You won’t get away with this! You will not tame me! I will get out of here and you won’t get a piece from me, you hag!” The anger in Yuri’s voice turned more genuine and differed from the theatrical before. It was colored with a tinge of fear and desperation. Perhaps he couldn’t believe the situation was actually happening and he was at the mercy of Mila. “Baba!”

 _Baba. Oh, no. It couldn’t be?_

The world spun around and Georgi’s heart sunk low. The mess of a situation suddenly made an unpleasant sense. Knocking. Rope, cage. Husband, taming and... Baba. He hugged himself in need of comfort because he couldn’t face it all at once.

_Baba._

She could see Georgi before he shed his invisibility cloak. She lived alone and made a ruin of a house into her home. She was the one who buried the talisman underneath the stairs! She put a binding spell on Yuri so he couldn’t get out of the cage!

Mila was a witch. And not just any kind. She was _Baba Yaga_.

❖❖❖

Georgi wasn’t sure what he expected. Yet, going into the house was a much stranger experience than any time before. At first the kitchen looked the same, but taking his time to approach Mila inevitably pulled the illusion from Georgi’s eyes. 

Orange glow spread in the kitchen from the oven, reminiscent of blacksmith’s forge. It added a rusty luster to the wooden furniture. The dried herbal bundles dangling from the wood beams, wafted fragrant, almost narcotic smells. 

Was Georgi really fooled all this time? Inviting a witch into his lair and wiggling in her palm?

He caught himself sneaking towards her despite the missing reason. She was aware of him, that much he was sure about.

 _But what exactly does she want? Except… the usual things that Yaga Baba does. Like… killing and eating the hearts of her victims._

The right moment to speak didn’t seem to come and the more he hesitated, the more it was obvious that Mila was too busy to give him immediate attention.

She had her back turned towards him and fiddled with a brass mortar. Perhaps she didn’t bother anymore to keep up the allure and all around her were typical items of a witch’s arsenal. Scattered bones of small animals, herbs and knives. She whispered occasionally, took bits of moss from a satchel or scooped up cobwebs from the window frame. She threw everything into the mortar and grounded it with a pestle. 

Georgi smelled sage and something else. As if iron on a tongue, moist, reminiscent of pears perhaps. 

_No, not pears._

Mila’s hands moved rhythmically as she cut something with vigor. The knife whacked the board unrelentlessly and its sound creeped into Georgi’s ear vulgar and filled him mind with unpleasant images.

Mila threw away the knife and turned towards Georgi.

_Death._

She stood there in a simple white undergarments, her decolletage free and smeared with blood. The fabric soaked it up, bloomed as a large red rosebush. Her hands were sticky, covered with drying up cloths of thickening blood. Her fingers as if dressed in a fine, red and gleaming leather slid over her throat and ended up in her mouth. 

_She’s treating her wounds with the blood._

“I am starving!” Mila complained, just like any other evening with tiredness. A familiar picture, but disturbing context. 

Georgi’s eyes flickered to the cutting board, looking for the origin of the massacre. In a slush of flesh laid a decapitated chicken. His lungs deflated in relief. At least he didn’t see her eat a baby or something worse. In pure desperation he looked for seeds of bright side.

Baba Yaga, or any witch for that matter, was dangerous. Their powers dwelled in evil doings, they lived to destroy, hurt and feed on the living. They didn’t differentiate between pure or like minded souls. In that regard they were fair and objective in a sense. It was hard to connect the past and present Mila. 

She was rather open minded, liked solitude but was also jovial. She didn’t lie. That shocked Georgi most of all. Mila really never said a lie. He made assumptions, filled empty spaces with deducted information. He painted her picture in his own view. The reality and his mind's eye carried many similarities, however did differ in the experience.

This Mila was feral, almost feeding from the scent of the blood alone. Her hair shone brighter than liquid copper. The cuts on her skin were visibly disappearing. Devouring life gave her a kick and she was presenting her true potential.

_She could have struck at any moment, but she is...waiting._

Once Georgi realized this, he grabbed onto his chance. There was still hope to settle this.

“Please don’t kill Yuri.” That wasn’t what he planned to say at first, but it just blurted out. 

“Why are you begging me for that?” She seemed genuinely surprised by his question. Did she think he’d ask something else or that his attempt to save the human was laughable? Georgi felt the pressure of the brittle moment he had, so he rushed on with a new drive.

“Your skin healed so nicely, I’ll bring you wildlife. No need to kill him.” He made a step towards her, clenching his fists with effort. “You are pretty as you are, you don’t need his life to make you look young.”

Her eyebrows rose delicately as if she was stunned. Why? By his audacity or offer? Georgi didn’t know. He approached her in confidence and sunk on his knee and touching the floor he begged.

“Mila, I will serve you, I’ll share my life force, even my own blood should you need it. I’ll be your servant, your...minion if you will. But please, stop this.”

She crossed her arms on her chest and leaned back against the table.

“Stop what exactly?”

His resolve weakened and his voice got less insistent, but he couldn’t look away from the strange gleam in her sapphire eyes. He felt that his next words would sign an invisible agreement or a death sentence.

“Don’t kill Yuri. Don’t harm humans.”

_So, that is all I could have said. My cards are on the table._

The silence between them prolonged and dragged on until he wasn’t sure if she heard him.

“That is… an intriguing offer. One that I’d hate to pass on. A servant. A minion. Alluring offer in deed.”

Georgi held his breath. Was that a yes or no?

“I accept.” She said from above, standing right before him. Her palms cupped his cheeks and her agreement was sealed with a kiss. 

Her lips were a dream, pliant, moist and greedy. Georgi felt something essential being sucked out of him just by her sheer touch. Still he couldn’t help it, he had to follow her, seeking her warmth. Mila didn’t have to pull or drag him at all. All she needed to do was suggest a direction and he chased her.

“I promise, I’ll be better than anyone else.” He really meant it. If he were being honest with himself, the pang of jealousy stung him, when Mila brought in Yuri. His position in her life was threatened and he didn’t like it a bit. That was the strongest reason for his offer, climbing over right and wrong and need to protect humans. She chuckled, licking her lips. “Then you better deliver, boy.”

She peeled herself off of him and walked backwards toward their room. Georgi heard drums, perhaps his own heart beating. The shadows in the corridor danced over her staring eyes and brought out the darkness out of her. Before he knew it, they were in the bedroom. 

He had only a miniscule of a moment to take in the sudden changes around him. The homely look was gone, the bedroom turned into her temple. Black and red candles lined the room, most likely bee wax mixed with charcoal and blood. Virtual curtains of spider webs hanging from the corners and the ceiling. In the middle was his bed but the duvets and pillows were gone and in their place were black sheets with crumbled dry herbs on it. Burned bones rolled over the pentagram drawn on the fabric. The white charcoal made the lines and symbols look like scattered milky way. 

Mila’s power was immense. She lifted his allure on the house and while she walked with him all the time, the room turned to this stage with her magic. No visible gestures done or words needed to be said to cast the spell. She was a formidable witch. 

He was pushed on the bed but it wasn't just two hands. There were many, pressing, stroking and tugging on his clothes. Georgi was falling into her casting, the edges of his vision grew hazy and he wondered if the candles were really there or if they were glowing ovens instead. A faint reflection moved on the ceiling and he realized a large copper plate was fixed on it, mirroring them both on the bed.

He smelled fern, he felt it growing inside his lungs, wringing his limbs. Yet when he looked, they were just her fingers gliding over his skin. Almost falling asleep, his shirt being ripped startled him back to consciousness.

Mila was on top of him, naked and making his chest free. Finally he could see her, without the shame, not believing that he could have her. That she’d want him. She took his hands and put them on her small breasts. Her nipples like unripe pale strawberries filled out his palms and he kneaded them until they puckered under his touch. Georgi’s loin grew and he hardened underneath her slowly rocking hips. He still had the pants on, but he could feel her heat through them. 

Her little sighs sent a rush from his belly towards the fine hair behind his ears. She enjoyed his touches and closed her eyes, revering them all the more. She took his hand and sucked on his index finger. The delight surged through him right back to his groin, the inside of her mouth was velvet. Then she pulled a pin out of her mouth and the momentary pleasure was exchanged by a painful prick. She led his bleeding fingers over her chest and then cleaned it up again in her mouth, quickly making him forget the pain. Georgi wished she would have more of him, maybe even eat him.

Mila climbed upwards and hovered over him with her bare hips right above his face. Her privates were hidden in soft mahogany hair and dark pink lips peaked out of it. A droplet of her juices fell on his lips and he licked it in a trance. She didn’t need to tell him anything, he sucked onto her as a leach, letting his tongue slide deep inside her and his thumb rolling over her most delicate point. She murmured something and held onto the bed frame. Her hips rocked against his tongue until it got too much and her body trembled like birch in a thunderstorm. Georgi had to grab anto her ass firm, so she wouldn’t escape his hungry lips. He just couldn’t get enough of her. She tasted sweeter than maroon honey and her drippings stuck to his cheeks even after she came.

However, Mila didn’t relax. Instead she grew hungrier and vital. She pulled herself down swiftly, yanking his pants down and freeing him from the tight restraints. Her warm breath washed over his underbelly and then the smoothest texture slid over his erect shaft. He moaned loudly and she laughed, her teeth flashing like white sharpened pearls. Then something strange happened.

Thin split tongue swirled as a shy, pink ribbon around his dark, almost burgundy penis. As quickly as it appeared, the quicker it was gone. Her human looking tongue circled around the glans. She swallowed him hungrily and her firm strokes of a hand pumped the rest of his shaft, she couldn’t devour. The cries from his mouth almost barked out and he rose from the sheets to stop her. Yet, she was quicker and thrust him rough back onto the back.

Mila straddled him like a mare and her pussy slid on his shaft as if on a swing. The velvet was almost burning on his soft skin. And suddenly, he was gone, his penis piercing her deeper than his tongue could ever reach. Lava was colder than her inside. Then it didn’t matter if she was a witch killing people and him a spirit dreaming of a wife. They were just a woman and a man, entangled and twisting, fighting over the dominance, yet her winning everytime and locking him on his back. Georgi was helpless, able to clamp her hips and thighs down, so he could rock against her roughly. When she was growing a bit tired, she let him pound her from below, biting her lips until they drew blood. 

The pleasure was searing through them both. They came several times, hard and almost cruel sometimes. Her juices and his cum mixing into a homogenous mass. And sometimes he sucked her lips and her breasts softly as he slid in and out of her in lethargy. The night couldn’t be measured by time but instead of their sweat coating their body and amount of blood drawn and drunk from each other. 

The night was split by morning light and that’s when they collapsed onto the drenched bed. Mila falling on his chest and stroking his jaw gently. “My boy, my boy. You’re mine now.” Her soft whispers conjured the former room back and pulled him into sleep.

❖❖❖

The day passed quickly with them sleeping it away. They rested till afternoon, until the loud bang woke them up harshly.

The door to the bedroom was thrown open by an invisible force and an angry older woman with an old man in her trails rushed into the room. 

Georgi quickly embraced Mila with one hand and braced the other in case of an attack.

The woman, dressed in bright yellow sarafan. Her hair was kept tight in a bun and her harsch eyes pinned them both in the bed like dead butterflies. Her gaze chilled Georgi to the bone and he understood she wasn’t a mere human either. 

“Mila. What is this?” Although it was a question, it sounded like a stated fact. As if the answer, whatever it could be, wouldn’t matter. The woman's wrath was palpable. Georgi wasn’t sure if the woman, clearly knowing Mila, was an amicable familiar person to them. 

However, Mila, the formidable witch didn’t seem to be affected at all. She pushed out of Georgi’s embrace and stretched her limbs without shame.

“Aunty! Welcome to our home. What brings you here?” Somehow, his friendly and almost simple human, Mila was back. There was no trace of the witchy woman from the other night. Georgi was very confused. And that was an understatement.

“You shall answer yourself at once. I am your master, Baba Yaga! You shall show me the respect I deserve!” She barely raised her voice, but it sounded like she was shouting.

“Lilia...” The man walked inside and threw a shirt from a nearby stool towards the couple. “Let the couple get dressed, we can talk over some vodka. Da?”

_Baba Yaga? Then… who is Mila? What is happening here?_

Georgi looked over the people in the room in confusion and waited for the mystery to unfold. If they wanted to attack them, they would have done so by then. He could relax and let the chaos sort itself out on its own.

“No, Yakov! She is my minion and my niece! I shall have explanations at once!” She glared at the man and challenged Mila again. “Well, go on. Explain.”

“Ok…” She sighed and smiling simply played with an ornament hanging from her neck. When did it appear? At the same moment Georgi noticed he wore the same kind around his own neck as well. 

“Lunnica!” Lilia threw her hands into the air appalled. And then she shook her fists towards Yakov. ”This is all your fault! I told you it’s too late for their wedding. Yuri matured just enough!”

“I didn’t think he'd break my spell and escape! He is too skilled for his own good.” Yakov crossed his chest in defiance almost like a grumpy accused husband. “This is not on me. You sent her out to catch him. This is your responsibility.”

“Mine? Mine?!” Lilia paced the boards and smoke rose from underneath her shoes. Her anger was burning the wooden boards by sheer walking on them… 

_This is really it. She is the Baba Yaga. Oh, my god._

“What am I supposed to do now? Yuri is not a Leshy yet and she can’t succeed me, when she’s bound to a house spirit.” Lilia pointed a finger at Mila. “She’ll stay a regular, basic Kikimora!”

“Now, now, Liliushka. Let’s get some vodka and something to eat. It’s not that bad. I can teach Yuri some more and who knows, maybe when Mila and this one get offspring, hell the little one can be your next student. It’s not like we’ll die anytime soon. You’ll be like a grandma to them.”

“Yakov. Me a grandmother. Are you sober?”

Georgi couldn’t process the bickering anymore and was in disbelief.

_A… Kikimora? Mila is a Kikimora? Domovoi’s...wife?_

“...kikimora.”

A soft hand grabbed onto his weak one and Georgi looked at its owner. Mila smiled demurely at him and leaned against his shoulder. Their foreheads touched and she whispered with a promise.

“Your kimimora.”

Georgi’s heart swelled and he could just kiss her on the lips, then on the nose and her cheek. Just like before when he gifted her the bed he made.

“Mine.”

And thus was his tale of a sleeping prince at the end. And the wicked witch didn’t have to be defeated either. And Yuri? He shouted till the slightly drunken and merry Yakov let him out. 

**The end.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mila leading a person on a leash, threatening them with a knife and locking them up in a cage. Mentions of animal bones. Detailed descriptions of blood, cutting livestock and consuming it raw. Mentions of cannibalism. Mila pricking Georgi’s finger with a pin and sucking his blood. Descriptions of explicit unprotected sex (rough and not) and drinking each other’s blood. 
> 
> Chapter title from [Tender is the fur, dying as you purr (from Rob Zombie - Dragula)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqQuihD0hoI)
> 
> You can find more Georgila and Mila fanfics in my works.  
> Thank you for reading! Did you like the work? Please let me know and share it :)  
> I appreciate the feedback and motivation!

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: mentions of dagger stabbing, naked breasts and heavy angst, heartbreak/breakup
> 
> Chapter 1 title from [Remind me to forget (from Kygo, Miguel)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FRjOSmc01-M)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Did you like the work? Please let me know and share it :)  
> I appreciate the feedback and motivation!


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